


Room for a Third

by calrissian18



Series: Mating Games [7]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Epic Bromance, Insecurity, Jealousy, M/M, emotionally stunted boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-23
Updated: 2013-05-23
Packaged: 2017-12-12 18:07:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/814459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calrissian18/pseuds/calrissian18
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek shares. Not well.</p><p>Written for mating_games Challenge 4: The Ties That Bind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Room for a Third

**Author's Note:**

> Now here's something we hope you'll really like:
> 
> First: I _hope_ you all read that in your best Squirrel voice.
> 
> Second: I couldn't decide which I liked better: the first version I wrote of this fic or the second version made to fit the word count so I've decided to just post both. So now you get to see what I always start out with (a mess of fic that's always, ALWAYS over 1k) and what survives the editing process to become the 500-750 word entry this challenge has to be. Fun, no?
> 
> No, it's probably not. I'm just trying to justify my own indecisiveness. Anyhoozles. The first version is the one I entered and the second is the nonsense I started out with so, of course, expect some overlap. ;)

Derek loves Stiles.

It sounds like a simple thing. It _is_ a bite of a sentence. But it’s taken five years for Derek to come to terms with it. Even now, there are times when it hangs odd on his shoulders like a jacket put on inside out, and everything in him screams _flee_. But he loves Stiles.

He _does not_ love the idiot that comes with him. He _despises_ hearing McCall shout through their bedroom door while Derek’s going down on an arching, writhing, _whimpering_ Stiles: “Tell Derek to hurry up with blowing you. Call of Duty, bro! Our troops are dying in the trenches!” He _loathes_ throwing an arm around Stiles and hitting a snoring, snuffling McCall on the other side.

He _hates_ sharing the man he’s finally admitted he wants all to himself.

* * *

He’ll be fine. The nurse says it again. Probably because Derek is still staring into Stiles’s battered face like he expects the life will bleed away if he doesn’t. He sits at Stiles’s bedside, awareness shot. McCall drops into the seat next to him, says, “I don’t like you.”

Derek huffs out a breathless laugh.

“You don’t like me either.” Derek wouldn’t disagree even if he could form words right now. “Derek. I don’t like you _because_ you’re perfect for him. We’ve— _I’ve_ fucked up _a lot_ with Stiles but he still loves me. For reasons I’ll probably never understand but that I’m eternally grateful for.” And McCall sounds older than Derek’s ever thought of him. “This, _you_ —” He gestures between himself and Stiles, “ _We_ could drift again. It happened with Allison and I didn’t even notice. Not until I looked at my best friend one day and I realized I had no idea what was going on in his head.”

McCall’s eyes are wet. “I _always_ know what’s going on in his head. Not thought for thought because _Stiles_ ,” he says with a weak laugh, “but I know when he’s thinking about some obscure comic book quote. Or his mom and needs to be distracted.” McCall kicks out with his foot. “The reason I’m around all the time isn’t to fuck with you. It’s because I’m terrified of losing him again. I’m terrified of _not_ knowing him because he’s the best person in the world to know.”

Derek thinks he and McCall might have done what Stiles has been after them to do for ages. Because that’s a fear Derek knows all too well, a fear that’s taken root in his core, a fear that wakes him from dead sleep. He and McCall have finally found common ground. Over the only thing they have in common.

Neither one of them looks away from Stiles again.

* * *

Derek takes Stiles home, fucks him open, slow and deep and intimate. He doesn’t say he loves Stiles because Kate has taken more from him than he’ll ever admit, but he shows him. As much as he’s able, he shows him.

Derek turns his back when they’re done. Angry at Stiles for getting hurt, for reminding him how breakable he is, for being reckless because he could so easily be _gone_ and Derek wouldn’t – _can’t_ – survive that loss.

Stiles props his chin up on Derek’s shoulder. “I know this has been hard for you.” Derek doesn't say anything, hardly daring to breathe. “I know, for a long time, even after we got together, you didn’t come first.” This is about McCall. And Derek’s always known that but it’s something else to hear it said out loud. “Derek,” Stiles says softly. “That was past tense, in case you missed it.”

Derek can feel the smile against his shoulder. “It takes a lot to kick the guy who gave me his _last_ Inspector Gadget Band-Aid out of top spot.” Derek stares up at him, wary and all too hopeful. “But you’re my family, as much as Scott is. _More_.”

Derek swallows, tries to speak around the lump in his throat. “Me—me too.”

Stiles’s smile tips up into a smirk. “Of course I am. You may be emotionally barren but no one can resist the Stilinski charm.”

Derek laughs and it really isn’t funny but Stiles can make all the shit things okay. It’s an ability only he has and Derek isn’t sure where he’d be without it. “McCall’s not so bad.” Stiles looks guarded. “Scott,” Derek says. “Scott isn’t so bad.”

The beaming smile Stiles gives him in return is worth whatever might follow.

 

 

* * *

  SAME SONG, DIFFERENT TUNE - LONG-FORM VER. 2

* * *

 

 

Derek loves Stiles.  And it sounds like a simple thing.  It _is_ , after all, a bite of a sentence.  But it had taken five years for Derek to come to terms with it.   

Even now, there are times when it hangs odd around his shoulders like a jacket he's put on inside out, times when it doesn't settle right in his gut and everything in him screams _flee_.  But he loves Stiles and it's getting harder to recall a time when that wasn't true.  Because it _is_ a small thing but it contains one massive mind-fuck of an emotion and Derek has never been great with those.

But Derek loves all 147-pounds of pale skin, fragile bones and sarcasm that come in the Stilinski package.  He is, however, emphatically _not_ in love with the epic bromance that comes with it.

* * *

McCall has zero fucking boundaries and zero fucking qualms about having zero fucking boundaries.

Derek stares up into Stiles's flushed face, watches him writhe and arch while the light kisses his sweat-damp skin.  He's a fucking _vision_ and Derek swallows around the head of Stiles's cock, earning a low keening whine from that mobile mouth.

Something grates against Derek's nerves, knots the muscles in his back and makes his brows furrow.  A second later, the irritation makes itself known.  McCall knocks an obnoxious pattern on their bedroom door and calls out happily, "Tell Derek to hurry up with blowing you already!  Call of Duty, bro!"  He shouts dramatically, "Our troops are dying in the trenches, man!"

Derek _hates_ him.

Stiles actually huffs out a laugh, rolling his eyes and thrusting up harder into Derek's mouth.  He moans around the slide of Derek's tongue but still manages to pant, "Could you at least _pretend_ like we're not all close to an incestuous degree because of the whole werewolf thing?"  Stiles is not going to talk to _McCall_ while they fuck.  Derek slides his tongue along the ridge under the head of Stiles's cock and Stiles's eyes nearly cross as he gasps out, " _Fuck_."

It's difficult to smirk with a cock in your mouth but Derek manages.

For all of second.

Because McCall sounds like he's smirking too.  "Are you doing that thing with your tongue where—?"

Stiles makes an irate sound and throws a pillow at their closed door.  " _Fuck.  Off.  Scott._ "

Derek pulls away with a whine from Stiles.  His eyes flash red.  "Don't you ever fucking say _McCall_ _'s fucking name_ with my mouth on your dick again."  Derek gets Stiles off with only a few more strokes of his mouth but he's lost his own hard-on thanks to Hurricane McCall.

He pulls a pillow over his head and ignores the sound of video game violence until he falls asleep.  Alone.

* * *

Derek _hates_ McCall.  He hates the way he casually puts his arm around Stiles or leans into him when he's telling a story or play fights with him in their living room.  He hates when Stiles smells like _McCall_.

All of that is probably what leads to him asking the question: "You've never—with Scott?"  And he's asked the question before, but never so outright.  And it still isn't that, judging by Stiles's response.

Stiles shifts up onto his elbow and stares down at him.  "What do you mean?"  Derek scowls, he's hardly going to spell it out.  Stiles will just laugh and call him ridiculous.  He never should have asked in the first place.  But Stiles is too smart for his own good and the pieces are slotting together within seconds.  "You mean have I ever fucked Scott?" Stiles guffaws.

Derek shrugs, refusing to be embarrassed.

"Scott's my best brofriend," Stiles says carefully, like he's worried Derek might have brain damage.  "You don't fuck your best brofriend.  You _do_ , however, fuck your best boyfriend."  Stiles follows this up with an impish grin and throws his leg over Derek's waist.

Derek strokes Stiles's thighs.  "Have you done anything else?"

Stiles sits on top of him, frowning.  "Um, [he kissed me once when we were ten](896508).  We didn't really know what it meant though, being _ten_ and all."  Stiles presses his palm over Derek's heart and his expression softens and Derek knows Stiles understands what he's really asking.  "Derek, I am not in love with Scott."     

* * *

Derek really _hates_ throwing his arm around Stiles and hitting McCall on the other side of him.

"McCall, we're _naked_ ," he grits out.

McCall and Stiles were clearly mid-conversation.  Stiles is still under the covers with him while McCall is lying on top of them.  He shrugs.  "That's cool, dude."  He looks back at Stiles like he can't understand why Derek is handing out seemingly random bits of information about their state of being.  Whatever Stiles does with his face must clue him in.  His eyes widen and he rushes to say, "Oh, uh, I'm not bothered.  Trust me, I am so _not_ trying to sneak a peek at your junk."

Stiles snorts.  "I draw the line at you calling Derek's perfect genitalia 'junk.'"

Derek shakes his head, looking pointedly down at Stiles.

McCall pulls a face.  "Oh dude, really, _Stiles_?  I've seen what he's packing and while it has gotten significantly more impressive since the fifth grade—"

"Thank you," Stiles interrupts happily.

"—it's not going to turn me," McCall finishes, as though he and Stiles regularly talk around one another.  McCall gets an evil look on his face and shifts down to try to flick Stiles in the 'nads.

Stiles twists his nipple.  "Assface."

Derek hates them both.

* * *

The hatred is a mutual thing and always has been, even before Stiles.  He and McCall don't speak unless forced.  Which is why Derek is nearly shocked stupid when McCall plops down into the seat next to him at Danny's barbeque and says,  "I don't like you."

Derek scoffs but McCall clearly isn't looking for a response. 

"You don't like me either."  He leans back and exhales sharply.  "Derek."  He rolls his mostly empty beer bottle between his palms.  "I don't like you _because_ you're perfect for him.  We've— _I've_ fucked up _a lot_ with Stiles but he still loves me.  For reasons I'll probably never understand but that I'm massively grateful for."  

His eyes flick to the spot where Stiles is laughing over something with Erica.  He's never lost track of him, just like Derek.  "This, _you_ _—We_ could drift again.  It happened with Allison and I didn't even notice until I looked at my best friend one day and I realized I had no idea what was going on in his head.  I _always_ know what's going in Stiles's head.  I mean, not thought for thought because _Stiles_ ," he laughs, runs a nervous hand through his stupidly shaggy hair, "but I know when he's thinking about some obscure comic book quote or some random Chem lesson from freshman year or when he's thinking about his mom and needs to be snapped out of it."

He shrugs and says, "The reason I'm around all the time isn't to fuck with you.  The reason I'm around all the time is because I'm terrified of losing him again.  I'm terrified of _not_ knowing him again because he's the best person in the world to know." 

And Derek thinks he and McCall might have just done the impossible and bonded over something.  Because that is a fear that's taken root in Derek's _core_ , that is a fear that Derek understands _perfectly_.

* * *

Derek takes Stiles home and fucks him slow and deep and intimate.  He doesn't say he loves Stiles because Kate has taken more from him than he likes to admit but he shows him.  As much as he's able, he shows him.

Stiles props his chin up on Derek's sweat-slick shoulder.  He's still catching his breath, turning his back on Stiles without meaning to.  Stiles rests the flat of his cheek there and says, "I know this has been hard for you."  Derek doesn't say anything.  He doesn't want to breathe too loud lest Stiles see that as a reason to derail.  "I know, for a long time, even after we got together, you didn't come first."  And Derek had always known that but it's something else to hear Stiles say it out loud.  "Derek," he says softly.  "That was past tense, in case you missed it."

Derek can feel the smile against his shoulder and he rolls over.  Stiles touches his fingers to the curve of his stubbled jaw.  "It takes a lot to kick the guy who gave me his _very_ last Inspector Gadget Band-Aid out of top spot."  Stiles's eyes are soft.  "I will _always_ love Scott but I love _you_ best."

Derek swallows and tries to speak around the lump in his throat.  "Me too," he croaks.

Stiles's smile tips up into a smirk.  "Of course, you're emotionally barren.  It's not like I had any competitors to beat out."

Derek laughs and it's not funny really but Stiles has a way of making all the shit things okay.  Because that's Stiles's magical power and Derek isn't sure where he'd be without it.

He bites Stiles's finger in retaliation and says, "McCall's not so bad."  Stiles still looks tentative, guarded.  "Scott," Derek says.  "Scott isn't so bad."

And the beaming smile Stiles gives him in return is more than worth anything that might follow. 

**Author's Note:**

> Head-canon fun fact! In this fic: the age Stiles is when his mom dies is ten.
> 
> [Look at what I can do](http://wellhalesbells.tumblr.com/)! Yeah, it's pressing a button. You know you wish you were that badass.
> 
>  
> 
> ETA: Ha! See, I told you it was because Stiles' mom died. Yeah, I wrote the fic I was thinking of when I wrote that line about Scott and Stiles kissing when they were ten. I am win!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Winter is the Time for Dead Things](https://archiveofourown.org/works/896508) by [calrissian18](https://archiveofourown.org/users/calrissian18/pseuds/calrissian18)




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